Facets
by Daemonette19
Summary: Buried under the debris of the council chamber he dwells on the many facets of Shepherd's personality and life and their relationship. Femshep-solesurvivor-colonist. PLEASE REVIEW!


A/N: This is my first Mass Effect Story and was written within a day or two of finishing the game. Be warned it contains spoilers!! Before you read please be aware that it is **supposed** to feel disjointed. I don't want to give to much away but what the narrating character is going throu is traumatic and he has a number of injuries and is suffering from shock. His mind is wandering and that is what I have _tried_ to convey :) Please Review. Review really do help

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**Facets **

It seemed strange that her face was what he thought of here in the dark. His own life was likely ending and instead of the widely held belief that key moments of his own existence would flash before his eyes, all he saw was hers.

Her bright, green eyes, questioning and curious as she asked him about Saren, lively and full of fun as she laughed with the Normandy's crew around the mess table, awash with guilty tears in the quiet dark of her quarters after Ash's death.

The Krogan beside him grunted, his hump was supporting most of the debris on top of them. It didn't matter. They were both dying, here, in the wreckage of the council chambers. To die pressed up against a Krogan battlemaster was not something that had ever crossed his mind. He couldn't even turn to see him or speak to him, his weapon's pack was twisting his neck and shoulders about. It hurt to breathe, much less talk or move. He couldn't see Wrex but…now, he could see her, her face rather than just her eyes.

She was across the hold talking quietly to Wrex. The Krogan snarled something at her but she hadn't flinched or backed away, just rested a gentle hand on his forearm and kept talking. She had been apologising for something, with that too sad, too serious expression she usually wore. Sometimes it grew sadder, sometimes more serious but it was always there, under the laughter or anger. Always.

Now she was explaining something to him, sad and serious but tense as well as if she was unsure of his reaction. She had just killed Dr Saleon, he remembered. He'd argued with her, wanted to know why she hadn't just killed him right away as he'd wanted to. He had to be given a chance, she had said, a chance to do the right thing, to come quietly, to acknowledge his wrongdoing but when the doctor had reached for his own weapon she had shot him. Neither he nor the Salarian had even seen her draw her pistol.

Nor had the corporation toady on Virmire. She had agonised over the decision later. She was always too ready to crucify herself over actions she'd taken earlier. She had assessed the situation, eliminated someone she saw as a potential threat, to himself and others. Later he had had to remind her of her Spectre status, reassure her of the validity of her actions and watch once more as she tore every move made that day apart to examine it for weakness and indecision.

A happier memory this time, although he couldn't see her, just hear her laughter over his hardsuit's comm, "There's gold in them thar hills!!" She had explained the human saying later as she filed the survey report. She'd still been laughing he recalled, vibrant and full of life. She'd stopped once she saw the finder's fee, mouth open in amazement. He hadn't realised human eyes could go that wide.

They could though and had. The first night after they had encountered a Thresher Maw, she let him research them using the closed computer line in her quarters. He had never encountered one before and was reluctant to ask her, to bring up memories of Akuze. He needn't have bothered, the memories were already there. She had nodded off, going over reports on the bed. He had tried to leave quietly, to sneak off to his own rest when he heard her whimper, heard her gasp out names, orders. He recognised the name, "Toombs" and had gone to wake her, calm her. She had ripped herself from the dream, sat straight up looking wildly around and launched herself into his arms. The rest of the night had been spent sitting awkwardly on the floor with an armful of Alliance Marine, looking into tear-filled green eyes, stroking damp red hair and learning more about Thresher Maws than he had ever wanted to know.

He'd learnt to love that sight of her. Wide, green eyes, hair dark with sweat, plastered against her flushed face before drying back to its usual vivid red. While that first night had left him with his own share of nightmares, other nights together had sustained him.

More memories now, of soft, white skin, her long, slender body like a pale flame against the dark of the mattress, the way she arched against him. At first there had been awkwardness, embarrassment, curiosity, then more laughter, his own this time, as she told him that Turians and Humans just didn't _fit,_she'd looked it up, she admitted shyly.

It hadn't mattered. Together they had discovered pleasure, passion and a deep pervading sense of belonging. They were both, friends and companions. Partners. She taught him about human kisses and he learned that as harsh as her lips could be giving orders, against him they were soft and pliant. He taught her that the Turian reputation for precision and dedication could be put to far more interesting uses than the military or civil service. Yes, bright, green eyes, sweat dark hair, flame pale skin, swollen lips and tender touches were all parts of his most treasured memories and he clutched at them now, held them close while his breath came harshly and his vision clouded. There was no sound from the Krogan, perhaps Wrex had already succumbed. No! Don't think, just remember, and let your last thoughts be memories or dreams. Don't dwell on realities, on the terror on her face- of her last cry to you "Run!" of her slender body not flame bright but ash dark, silhouetted against the tower window, hidden suddenly by the shadow, then smashing, screaming, flames and debris and a limp puppet-like form hurtling through the air and twisting, snapping, painful darkness. Only to wake to the groans of the Krogan, unable to move, unable to breathe. No! Memories Garrus! Dreams!!

She had given him hers. Memories of Mindoir, her father and mother, her older sister and brother-in-law. The small settlement on the outskirts of the main colony. Her first kills with her grandfather's rifle from the top of the ruins and then with the outdated pistol she picked up off of a corpse. The secret that she had never shared with anyone before – that most of the raiders had been human, some she had thought she recognised from cargo freighters at the spaceport – she'd never been able to completely trust another human again.

The terrors of Akuze and the crushing sense of loss and failure. The investigations and tribunals. Her guilt over the stone memorial and her commendations, "Rewarded" she'd spat, "for surviving. Like I'd done something special!"

In return she had held his heart and hopes. She listened to stories of his youth, his time in the military, his acceptance into C-Sec. He told of the claustrophobic feel of bureaucratic red tape, of the pain of seeing crimes committed he could have prevented if he had only stepped outside the law himself, of his own sense of guilt. He told her how honoured and excited he had been by the offer to train as a Spectre. How part of him had always regretted turning it down and that same part had resented and hated his father for convincing him too. They hadn't spoken since until her quiet but constant urging had him on the comm. She had smiled gently at him as she left her quarters to give him some privacy. He cherished that smile, still sad, still serious but brave as well, happy for him to be reunited with his family even though hers was long gone. He held onto that memory, that image for a little longer.

"We've found them!"

Light pierced his eyes, blinking he let the Alliance technicians and medics help him out of the rubble. The mangled weapons pack was cut free and tossed to one side. The framework and webbing had been twisted about his chest and throat, tightening every time he moved, slowly suffocating him. Wrex was badly injured; he lay to one side fending of medics, lost in his own grief.

"Where is she? Where's Shepherd?" Captain Anderson's dark face was wan and worried. Garrus exchanged a look with Wrex and swallowed hard, "Captain, she …."

"…look" One of the technicians pointed at a mountain of debris. Shepherd stood there, poised at the top.

For a moment Garrus thought he truly had died and she had come to collect him. Bright light from outside reflected off the rising dust motes bathing her in a corona of white. If the Hanar were correct about the Enkindlers surely this must be how they envisioned them. She was flame bright again.

Green eyes caught his own and the pain in them brought him back to reality. His medical training kicked in and he was already assessing her as she scrambled down the debris to him. Her shoulder was dislocated again and he suspected that she had damaged the elbow on the same side. She was white, shock probably, hopefully, though it could be from blood loss. Medi-gel stood out starkly, smeared across her forehead and cheek; she would probably have another scar intersecting that eyebrow. She was covered in dust and dirt and blood and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Kalyss!"

"Garrus?!"

He caught her as she fell. Holding her close he shrugged off the assistance of the techs. No medics here could help her, she needed to get to better facilities. Limping out the doorway he stopped for a moment so she could order Wrex to co-operate before continuing on.

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Captain Anderson watched them leave. Their relationship was one of the stranger things he had seen during his career but as he thought on the vivid red head pressed against the Turian's neck and the way her long white fingers had clutched at his shoulders he couldn't disapprove. Anderson loved Shepherd like a daughter, though he couldn't tell her that. He was all too aware of her penchant for self recrimination. He hoped she was happy. She would need all the strength available to her in the coming days. If she was correct and he believed she was, the Reapers were coming and Kalyss Shepherd was their best hope of defeating them.

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A/N: That's it! Hope you enjoyed it! Again please do me the favour of reviewing and thanks very much for reading


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